Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Nobel Lecture by Aung San Suu Kyi

Nobel Lecture by Aung San Suu Kyi, Oslo, 16 June, 2012

Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness, Excellencies, Distinguishedmembers of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, Dear Friends,Long years ago, sometimes it seems many lives ago, I was at Oxfordlistening to the radio programme Desert Island Discs with my young son Alexander. It was a well-known programme (for all I know it still continues) on which famous people from all walks of life were invited to talk about the eight discs, the one book beside the bible and the complete works of Shakespeare, and the one luxury item they would wish to have with them were they to be marooned on a desert island. At the end of the programme, which we had both enjoyed, Alexander asked me if I thought I might ever be invited to speak on Desert Island Discs. “Why not?” I responded lightly. Since he knew that in general only celebrities took part in the programme he proceeded to ask, with genuine interest, for what reason I thought I might be invited. I considered this for a moment and then answered: “Perhaps because I’d have won the Nobel Prize for literature,” and we both laughed. The prospect seemed pleasant but hardly probable.(I cannot now remember why I gave that answer, perhaps because I had recently read a book by a Nobel Laureate or perhaps because the Desert Island celebrity of that day had been a famous writer.)In 1989, when my late husband Michael Aris came to see me during my first term of house arrest, he told me that a friend, John Finnis, had nominated me for the Nobel Peace Prize. This time also I laughed. For an instant Michael looked amazed, then he realized why I was amused.

The Nobel Peace Prize? A pleasant prospect, but quite improbable!

So how did I feel when I was actually awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace? The question has been put to me many times and this is surely the most

appropriate occasion on which to examine what the Nobel Prize means tome and what peace means to me.As I have said repeatedly in many an interview, I heard the news thatI had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize on the radio one evening. Itdid not altogether come as a surprise because I had been mentioned asone of the frontrunners for the prize in a number of broadcasts duringthe previous week. While drafting this lecture, I have tried very hardto remember what my immediate reaction to the announcement of theaward had been. I think, I can no longer be sure, it was somethinglike: “Oh, so they’ve decided to give it to me.” It did not seem quitereal because in a sense I did not feel myself to be quite real at thattime.Often during my days of house arrest it felt as though I were nolonger a part of the real world. There was the house which was myworld, there was the world of others who also were not free but whowere together in prison as a community, and there was the world of thefree; each was a different planet pursuing its own separate course inan indifferent universe. What the Nobel Peace Prize did was to draw meonce again into the world of other human beings outside the isolatedarea in which I lived, to restore a sense of reality to me. This didnot happen instantly, of course, but as the days and months went byand news of reactions to the award came over the airwaves, I began tounderstand the significance of the Nobel Prize. It had made me realonce again; it had drawn me back into the wider human community. Andwhat was more important, the Nobel Prize had drawn the attention ofthe world to the struggle for democracy and human rights in Burma. Wewere not going to be forgotten.To be forgotten. The French say that to part is to die a little. To beforgotten too is to die a little. It is to lose some of the links thatanchor us to the rest of humanity. When I met Burmese migrant workersand refugees during my recent visit to Thailand, many cried out:“Don’t forget us!” They meant: “don’t forget our plight, don’t forgetto do what you can to help us, don’t forget we also belong to yourworld.” When the Nobel Committee awarded the Peace Prize to me theywere recognizing that the oppressed and the isolated in Burma werealso a part of the world, they were recognizing the oneness ofhumanity. So for me receiving the Nobel Peace Prize means personallyextending my concerns for democracy and human rights beyond nationalborders. The Nobel Peace Prize opened up a door in my heart.The Burmese concept of peace can be explained as the happiness arisingfrom the cessation of factors that militate against the harmonious andthe wholesome. The word nyein-chan translates literally as thebeneficial coolness that comes when a fire is extinguished. Fires ofsuffering and strife are raging around the world. In my own country,hostilities have not ceased in the far north; to the west, communalviolence resulting in arson and murder were taking place just severaldays before I started out on the journey that has brought me heretoday. News of atrocities in other reaches of the earth abound.Reports of hunger, disease, displacement, joblessness, poverty,injustice, discrimination, prejudice, bigotry; these are our dailyfare. Everywhere there are negative forces eating away at thefoundations of peace. Everywhere can be found thoughtless dissipationof material and human resources that are necessary for theconservation of harmony and happiness in our world.The First World War represented a terrifying waste of youth andpotential, a cruel squandering of the positive forces of our planet.The poetry of that era has a special significance for me because Ifirst read it at a time when I was the same age as many of those youngmen who had to face the prospect of withering before they had barelyblossomed. A young American fighting with the French Foreign Legionwrote before he was killed in action in 1916 that he would meet hisdeath: “at some disputed barricade;” “on some scarred slope ofbattered hill;” “at midnight in some flaming town.” Youth and love andlife perishing forever in senseless attempts to capture nameless,unremembered places. And for what? Nearly a century on, we have yet tofind a satisfactory answer.Are we not still guilty, if to a less violent degree, of recklessness,of improvidence with regard to our future and our humanity? War is notthe only arena where peace is done to death. Wherever suffering isignored, there will be the seeds of conflict, for suffering degradesand embitters and enrages.A positive aspect of living in isolation was that I had ample time inwhich to ruminate over the meaning of words and precepts that I hadknown and accepted all my life. As a Buddhist, I had heard aboutdukha, generally translated as suffering, since I was a small child.Almost on a daily basis elderly, and sometimes not so elderly, peoplearound me would murmur “dukha, dukha” when they suffered from achesand pains or when they met with some small, annoying mishaps. However,it was only during my years of house arrest that I got around toinvestigating the nature of the six great dukha. These are: to beconceived, to age, to sicken, to die, to be parted from those oneloves, to be forced to live in propinquity with those one does notlove. I examined each of the six great sufferings, not in a religiouscontext but in the context of our ordinary, everyday lives. Ifsuffering were an unavoidable part of our existence, we should try toalleviate it as far as possible in practical, earthly ways. I mulledover the effectiveness of ante- and post-natal programmes and motherand childcare; of adequate facilities for the aging population; ofcomprehensive health services; of compassionate nursing and hospices.I was particularly intrigued by the last two kinds of suffering: to beparted from those one loves and to be forced to live in propinquitywith those one does not love. What experiences might our Lord Buddhahave undergone in his own life that he had included these two statesamong the great sufferings? I thought of prisoners and refugees, ofmigrant workers and victims of human trafficking, of that great massof the uprooted of the earth who have been torn away from their homes,parted from families and friends, forced to live out their lives amongstrangers who are not always welcoming.We are fortunate to be living in an age when social welfare andhumanitarian assistance are recognized not only as desirable butnecessary. I am fortunate to be living in an age when the fate ofprisoners of conscience anywhere has become the concern of peopleseverywhere, an age when democracy and human rights are widely, even ifnot universally, accepted as the birthright of all. How often duringmy years under house arrest have I drawn strength from my favouritepassages in the preamble to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights:……. disregard and contempt for human rights have resulted in barbarousacts which have outraged the conscience of mankind, and the advent ofa world in which human beings shall enjoy freedom of speech and beliefand freedom from fear and want has been proclaimed as the highestaspirations of the common people,…… it is essential, if man is not to be compelled to have recourse, asa last resort, to rebellion against tyranny and oppression, that humanrights should be protected by the rule of law . . .If I am asked why I am fighting for human rights in Burma the abovepassages will provide the answer. If I am asked why I am fighting fordemocracy in Burma, it is because I believe that democraticinstitutions and practices are necessary for the guarantee of humanrights.Over the past year there have been signs that the endeavours of thosewho believe in democracy and human rights are beginning to bear fruitin Burma. There have been changes in a positive direction; stepstowards democratization have been taken. If I advocate cautiousoptimism it is not because I do not have faith in the future butbecause I do not want to encourage blind faith. Without faith in thefuture, without the conviction that democratic values and fundamentalhuman rights are not only necessary but possible for our society, ourmovement could not have been sustained throughout the destroyingyears. Some of our warriors fell at their post, some deserted us, buta dedicated core remained strong and committed. At times when I thinkof the years that have passed, I am amazed that so many remainedstaunch under the most trying circumstances. Their faith in our causeis not blind; it is based on a clear-eyed assessment of their ownpowers of endurance and a profound respect for the aspirations of ourpeople.It is because of recent changes in my country that I am with youtoday; and these changes have come about because of you and otherlovers of freedom and justice who contributed towards a globalawareness of our situation. Before continuing to speak of my country,may I speak out for our prisoners of conscience. There still remainsuch prisoners in Burma. It is to be feared that because the bestknown detainees have been released, the remainder, the unknown ones,will be forgotten. I am standing here because I was once a prisoner ofconscience. As you look at me and listen to me, please remember theoften repeated truth that one prisoner of conscience is one too many.Those who have not yet been freed, those who have not yet been givenaccess to the benefits of justice in my country number much more thanone. Please remember them and do whatever is possible to effect theirearliest, unconditional release.Burma is a country of many ethnic nationalities and faith in itsfuture can be founded only on a true spirit of union. Since weachieved independence in 1948, there never has been a time when wecould claim the whole country was at peace. We have not been able todevelop the trust and understanding necessary to remove causes ofconflict. Hopes were raised by ceasefires that were maintained fromthe early 1990s until 2010 when these broke down over the course of afew months. One unconsidered move can be enough to removelong-standing ceasefires. In recent months, negotiations between thegovernment and ethnic nationality forces have been making progress. Wehope that ceasefire agreements will lead to political settlementsfounded on the aspirations of the peoples, and the spirit of union.My party, the National League for Democracy, and I stand ready andwilling to play any role in the process of national reconciliation.The reform measures that were put into motion by President U TheinSein’s government can be sustained only with the intelligentcooperation of all internal forces: the military, our ethnicnationalities, political parties, the media, civil societyorganizations, the business community and, most important of all, thegeneral public. We can say that reform is effective only if the livesof the people are improved and in this regard, the internationalcommunity has a vital role to play. Development and humanitarian aid,bi-lateral agreements and investments should be coordinated andcalibrated to ensure that these will promote social, political andeconomic growth that is balanced and sustainable. The potential of ourcountry is enormous. This should be nurtured and developed to createnot just a more prosperous but also a more harmonious, democraticsociety where our people can live in peace, security and freedom.The peace of our world is indivisible. As long as negative forces aregetting the better of positive forces anywhere, we are all at risk. Itmay be questioned whether all negative forces could ever be removed.The simple answer is: “No!” It is in human nature to contain both thepositive and the negative. However, it is also within human capabilityto work to reinforce the positive and to minimize or neutralize thenegative. Absolute peace in our world is an unattainable goal. But itis one towards which we must continue to journey, our eyes fixed on itas a traveller in a desert fixes his eyes on the one guiding star thatwill lead him to salvation. Even if we do not achieve perfect peace onearth, because perfect peace is not of this earth, common endeavoursto gain peace will unite individuals and nations in trust andfriendship and help to make our human community safer and kinder.I used the word ‘kinder’ after careful deliberation; I might say thecareful deliberation of many years. Of the sweets of adversity, andlet me say that these are not numerous, I have found the sweetest, themost precious of all, is the lesson I learnt on the value of kindness.Every kindness I received, small or big, convinced me that there couldnever be enough of it in our world. To be kind is to respond withsensitivity and human warmth to the hopes and needs of others. Eventhe briefest touch of kindness can lighten a heavy heart. Kindness canchange the lives of people. Norway has shown exemplary kindness inproviding a home for the displaced of the earth, offering sanctuary tothose who have been cut loose from the moorings of security andfreedom in their native lands.There are refugees in all parts of the world. When I was at the Maelarefugee camp in Thailand recently, I met dedicated people who werestriving daily to make the lives of the inmates as free from hardshipas possible. They spoke of their concern over ‘donor fatigue,’ whichcould also translate as ‘compassion fatigue.’ ‘Donor fatigue’expresses itself precisely in the reduction of funding. ‘Compassionfatigue’ expresses itself less obviously in the reduction of concern.One is the consequence of the other. Can we afford to indulge incompassion fatigue? Is the cost of meeting the needs of refugeesgreater than the cost that would be consequent on turning anindifferent, if not a blind, eye on their suffering? I appeal todonors the world over to fulfill the needs of these people who are insearch, often it must seem to them a vain search, of refuge.At Maela, I had valuable discussions with Thai officials responsiblefor the administration of Tak province where this and several othercamps are situated. They acquainted me with some of the more seriousproblems related to refugee camps: violation of forestry laws, illegaldrug use, home brewed spirits, the problems of controlling malaria,tuberculosis, dengue fever and cholera. The concerns of theadministration are as legitimate as the concerns of the refugees. Hostcountries also deserve consideration and practical help in coping withthe difficulties related to their responsibilities.Ultimately our aim should be to create a world free from thedisplaced, the homeless and the hopeless, a world of which each andevery corner is a true sanctuary where the inhabitants will have thefreedom and the capacity to live in peace. Every thought, every word,and every action that adds to the positive and the wholesome is acontribution to peace. Each and every one of us is capable of makingsuch a contribution. Let us join hands to try to create a peacefulworld where we can sleep in security and wake in happiness.The Nobel Committee concluded its statement of 14 October 1991 withthe words: “In awarding the Nobel Peace Prize ... to Aung San Suu Kyi,the Norwegian Nobel Committee wishes to honour this woman for herunflagging efforts and to show its support for the many peoplethroughout the world who are striving to attain democracy, humanrights and ethnic conciliation by peaceful means.” When I joined thedemocracy movement in Burma it never occurred to me that I might everbe the recipient of any prize or honour. The prize we were working forwas a free, secure and just society where our people might be able torealize their full potential. The honour lay in our endeavour. Historyhad given us the opportunity to give of our best for a cause in whichwe believed. When the Nobel Committee chose to honour me, the road Ihad chosen of my own free will became a less lonely path to follow.For this I thank the Committee, the people of Norway and peoples allover the world whose support has strengthened my faith in the commonquest for peace. Thank you.

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Mary Harper

Welcome to my blog. I am a journalist and writer, specialising in Africa. I have reported on events on the continent since the early 1990s. I am Africa Editor at the BBC World Service and author of the book,Getting Somalia Wrong? Faith, War and Hope in a Shattered State, published by Zed Books. You can find out more about my work by looking at my website www.maryharper.co.uk. Posting pieces by others does not mean I endorse them.